


Haikyuu One-shots!

by BlackberryCupcake



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackberryCupcake/pseuds/BlackberryCupcake
Summary: Just a bunch of fluffy one-shots! Please, gimme your requests! They can be platonic or romantic. Tags will update! :)1: Kageyama's father gets mad at him for missing their weekly meeting via phone (Kageyama-centric).2: Goshiki's little sister is a bad egg and stresses him out. Tendou helps comfort him (Goshiki-centric, but Tendou's there a lot, too).3: Yamagata get his artwork ruined by some assholes in his art class (focuses on Yamagata's introspection, but also on his relationship with Kawanishi).4: Akaashi's suitemates are loud and drink all the time. Ultimately, he turns to Bokuto for comfort. (Akaashi x Bokuto)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Goshiki Tsutomu & Semi Eita, Goshiki Tsutomu & Tendou Satori, Goshiki Tsutomu & Tendou Satori & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Goshiki Tsutomu & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio & Karasuno Volleyball Club, Kageyama Tobio & Sugawara Koushi, Kageyama Tobio & Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Kageyama Tobio & Ukai Keishin, Kawanishi Taichi & Shirabu Kenjirou, Kawanishi Taichi/Yamagata Hayato, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Semi Eita & Tendou Satori & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita & Yamagata Hayato
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	1. My Dad (Kageyama-centric)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning cause Kageyama's dad is a little mean :(

“Hey, Sawamura-san?”  
“Yes, Kageyama?”  
“Can I have my phone during practice today? I’m expecting a call.  
“That should be fine. Don’t be on it other than that, though.”  
Tobio nodded. Every Sunday, he was supposed to call his father. Unfortunately, the day before (which was a Sunday), Tobio hadn’t had the time to call his father. His father was in meetings from about 7 in the morning to about 4 in the afternoon. Tobio supposed he could have tried to call him before 7. Though, with neither Tobio nor his father being a morning person, that conversation probably wouldn’t have been too pleasant. Tobio met up with Hinata around 3. They were together until late at night. They had talked and played some video games for a little bit and walked over to Ukai’s shop to grab some meat buns. Though, the main reason for their get-together was to study for the history quiz they were going to have.  
And, Tobio’s father always said not to call if it interfered with Tobio’s schedule too much. He didn’t want to leave Hinata alone in his bedroom for forty-five minutes to have a strained conversation with someone he didn’t even want to talk to.  
Tobio still felt nervous. It had been months since he’d missed a call with his dad. And there was also the fact that Tobio’s father wouldn’t respond to his texts. 

I’m sorry, sir. 

I’m with Hinata-Kun. 

You can call tomorrow after your meetings, or I can call you after volleyball?

Tobio found it really unsettling.

Just when Daichi was giving them some time to practice individually on whatever they thought most important to work on, Tobio felt his cellphone buzz against the zipper pocket in his shorts. He swallowed and mumbled, “Be right back,” before wandering away, not bothering to answer any of Hinata’s pestering.  
Tobio stepped outside the gym. The air was a bit frigid. He reached inside his pocket and pulled his cellphone out before thickly swallowing and answering, “Hello.”  
“Sir.”  
“Hello, sir.”  
Tobio’s father heaved a sigh before continuing, “So, Tobio. What was it that you were doing yesterday?”  
“Studying, sir.”  
“Didn’t you say you were with a friend?”  
“I was. But we were studying.”  
“Mmm-hmm. You know, it feels pretty bad when you forget to call me.” Kageyama pursed his lips. He didn’t say anything, “Tobio? Are you there?”  
“Yes,” Tobio paused before hurriedly adding, “Sir.”  
“Can you understand why I might be upset with you? You only have to call one time per week, after all.”  
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”  
“So… why didn’t you call, then?”  
“I was with Hinata-Kun. Like I said, sir.”  
“You should have called, regardless.”  
“I’m sorry, sir.”  
Tobio’s father heaved another sigh, “Well, I’ll have to get going, Tobio. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”  
“Okay, sir.”  
Tobio’s father hung up. Tobio sank his teeth into his lower lip. Really, he knew that he couldn’t make his father happy. Whenever Tobio called, he was stressed out and busy. If he didn’t, Tobio got in trouble.  
There was the familiar sting of tears against the back of Tobio’s eyes. He was angry, but not at himself. He was angry at his father.  
“Kageyama-Kun?” Sugawara poked his head through the door, “What’s going on?”  
Tobio studied Suga’s face for a moment, trying to read his expression. He didn’t seem mad, “My father called. I forgot to call yesterday, so I had to take it now. I’m sorry.”  
“Heh heh. Don’t worry about it too much.” Suga paused. He seemed to be studying Tobio back. Tobio assumed that Suga was probably a lot better at expression reading than he was himself, “You okay? You look mad.”  
“It’s fine.” Tobio wanted to yell. But, that would be unfair to Suga when he was really mad at his father, “Let’s just go in.”

Tobio glanced down at his bank account information on his phone. He wasn’t struggling financially, really. His dad gave him about 4,000 yen per week for groceries and other expenses. Tobio didn’t usually spend it all. But, he did need it for a couple of various expenses.  
And, that week, his father had not paid him.  
It really irked him. His father was a very deliberate person. There was no way that Tobio forgetting to call him would coincidentally coincide with his father ‘forgetting’ to pay him.  
It hurt the most, though, when the team went to get pork buns together on Friday.  
“Aren’t you going to buy any, Kageyama?” asked Hinata.  
“No.”  
“Why not?”  
“I don’t feel like it.” That wasn’t true. If there was anything Tobio ever craved, it was a pork bun (especially after a long volleyball practice).  
“Are you sick or something?”  
“No, dumbass. I’m just not hungry.” He still wanted to sit with his team, even if he didn’t get a pork bun. That wasn’t weird. Was it?  
“... Do you have enough money? My mom gave me a little extra.” Hinata wiggled his eyebrows at Kageyama.  
As tempting as that offer was, Tobio declined. His dad wouldn’t want him taking other people’s money to buy food. That would cancel out the punishment. “No.”  
Hinata cleared his throat. “Well, I think I actually do want another one. I’ll be right back.”  
“Augh, Hina-” Hinata was already gone inside the store. Tobio was squatting on the ground next to the bench where the third years were talking about a movie they wanted to see. Hinata materialized almost as quickly as he’d runoff. “Here,” He tried to thrust a pork bun into Tobio’s hands.  
Tobio bit his lip, “Dumbass, thanks, but I can’t.”  
“No, I can’t. You know my mom, right? She’d be mad if I didn’t do anything about it when I knew you were hungry.”  
“Well, my dad would be mad at me for taking it,” Tobio lowered his voice, “He didn’t give me any money this week. It’s a punishment.”  
“Oh… so me giving you this would cancel out the punishment, right? Because it still costs money.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, good thing Ukai gave it to me for free. Isn’t that nice?”  
“That’s a lie. Coach would never.”  
“You don’t know if it’s a lie or not. And, you’ll never know.”  
“I could walk in there and ask.”  
“You’re missing the point, Bakayama.”  
Tobio stared at the package that Hinata grasped in both of his hands. How could he be so nice? “Fine.”  
Hinata smiled at him and thrust the warm package into his hands.

They had Monday off. It was a holiday. Therefore, Karasuno wanted to party into the night on Sunday.  
Tanaka invited everyone over to watch the movie that the third years had been talking about during the pork bun incident.  
Unfortunately, halfway through the movie, Tobio realized that he needed to call his dad. It was already seven. He swallowed and glanced over at Hinata, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He begrudgingly took the boy by the shoulders and leaned him against the back of the sofa before muttering, “Be right back.” Before slipping on his shoes and stepping outside.  
Tobio dialed his father’s number and lifted the phone to his ear. It rang once. Then twice. Then, “Hello, Tobio. Nice to actually hear from you on time. It is a bit late, though.”  
“Oh.”  
“What do you have to say?”  
“Nothing, sir.” Kageyama’s father hummed. “Sorry. Sir.”  
“You know, you don’t have to call me. It’s obviously too much of a hassle for you.”  
“No, sir. I can call.” Kageyama swallowed.  
“Well, I’m just wondering what it is that this call always interrupts?”  
“Nothing, sir.”  
“Well, where are you now? I can tell you’re not at home.”  
“I’m at a friend’s home.”  
“Who?”  
Kageyama cleared his throat. “My upperclassman. Tanaka Ryu.”  
“Well,” Kageyama’s father heaved a sigh, “You know, I just don’t like feeling like I’m paying you for your time.”  
“Of course, sir.” God. Why did it feel so bad to kiss his father’s ass? And why was his dad so pathetic all the time.  
“So, maybe I won’t pay you for a while.”  
Kageyama blinked.  
“You’ve saved some money, right?”  
“I- I guess.”  
“It’s for your own good, Tobio. You’ll come to appreciate our relationship more if you’re not depending on it for money. How about… let’s say… three months? That’s a whole quarter of a year.”  
“O- okay.”  
“I’ll get going now. Have fun with your friend.”  
It hurt how much joy Kageyama’s father’s voice held. “I will, sir.”  
“Bye.” Kageyama’s father hung up. Kageyama clicked his bank account open on his phone. He only had 6,000 yen saved up. He swallowed and buried his face in his hands. He hated how he was squatting on the ground like a sad preschooler.  
He needed that money. He smacked himself in the forehead.  
The bus home was not an option today. If he limited his grocery haul- he might have enough for the next two grocery trips and the chapter book he needed to order for English class.  
“Hey, buddy. Everything okay?”  
Kageyama jumped at Tanaka’s loud voice, whipping his head to stare up at him. “Oh- uh- yeah.”  
“You sure?” Tanaka seemed to lean closer. “You look like you’re…”  
Oh god.  
“Crying.”  
Kageyama buried his face back in his hands, “It’s just my dad,” he said.  
“What about ‘im?”  
Kageyama shrugged. It was quiet for a minute. Kageyama heard Tanaka sit on the ground beside him. “Hey… I mean… you don’t have to tell me. But, maybe... you’ll feel better if you tell someone.”  
Kageyama took a deep breath. It was probably fine to tell Tanaka. He wouldn’t do anything about it, and he wouldn’t have to bear the weight of the situation in secret. But… if Kageyama’s father ever found out he’d told someone, he’d probably be furious.  
… Or oh well. His father wasn’t here.  
“Well… my dad’s not around,” said Kageyama.  
“Oh, haha! Me either!”  
“I don’t mean it like that. He just… is abroad for work most of the time.”  
“Oh. What about your mom?”  
“She is the one who isn’t around.”  
“Well, what’s the problem with your dad, then?”  
“I don’t know. He’s just an annoying little turd.”  
“Hehe.”  
“He’s a controlling douche. I hate it.”  
“What’d he do?”  
Kageyama cleared his throat. “Well… he got- wait. You can’t tell anyone.”  
Tanaka shrugged.  
“He’s not giving me money anymore. He used to give me money for food and school stuff. And, the bus and stuff. You know?”  
Tanaka seemed surprised. “He’s not?”  
“No. He doesn't like that I call him just to get paid.”  
“Do you do that, then?”  
“No! Well… sort of. Since he’s always a buttwad. I don’t want to talk to him ever.”  
Tanaka stared forward. Kageyama’s heartbeat increased. Maybe he’d said too much? Was that too much personal junk to unpack onto someone else? “S-sorry. Just forget it.”  
“No. It’s fine. I just- how much money do you have right now.” Kageyama glared at Tanaka. “Seriously, dude. Just answer. I won’t judge you or anything.”  
As Kageyama answered, his face got hot with embarrassment, “6,000 yen.”  
Tanaka had a weird grimace. “How will you pay for stuff?”  
“I have enough.”  
“For how long?”  
“... Maybe three weeks?”  
“You sure?”  
“What’s going on out here?” said a new voice. Sugawara.  
“Kageyama’s douchebag dad won’t pay him anymore. He can’t eat.”  
“Tanaka!” Kageyama exclaimed, “I’m fine! Sugawara, I’m fine. Really fine.”  
“What?” Suga asked. “What’re you talking about.”  
“Look, dude,” said Tanaka, placing a firm hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “I want to help you out. But, I have to tell people.”  
“Don’t!” said Kageyama, standing abruptly before bowing deeply to his two upperclassmen, “It’s fine. I’m fine! Please!”  
Tanaka had seemingly ignored him. “It’s his dad,” he said to Suga. “He’s gone all the time, and he got mad at our boy Kaggie-chan like a little kid! He won’t give him money. He has to live off 6,000 yen for-” He turned back to Kageyama, “How long?”  
“I- I don’t know,” said Kageyama, “M-maybe only a little?”  
“You know,” said Suga, “You don’t need to lie, Kageyama.”  
“... Three months.”  
“How can you live off of that?!” exclaimed Tanaka.  
“I’ll get a job. Or something…”  
“Our school doesn't allow that, Kageyama.” Suga gently reminded. “Let’s let Daichi know. Or Ukai, too. Takeda could also help.”  
Kageyama stared at the ground, “I don’t want to be taken away from my dad or something. I’m fine on my own!”  
“You sure are,” said Suga, “I know you’ve lived alone for a long time. We’ll just help you out.”  
“N-no!” said Kageyama. “Like I said, I’m fine.”

They agreed not to tell anyone, for which Kageyama was glad. About a week later, though, Kageyama was becoming skeptical that he’d be able to handle this alone.  
He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He was out of perishable food at home- he was sure not to eat food too quickly (perishable or not). He’d allowed himself to drink a box of milk at lunch, though.  
So, why was he feeling so bad? He was sick to his stomach. If he moved too quickly, he’d get the slightest bit dizzy.  
But, it wasn’t causing too many problems- yet. He’d been able to hunch over enough when his stomach felt like it wanted to growl. No one had heard it.  
That was until Hinata and Tanaka decided to tackle him (for what reason Kageyama didn’t know). It forced Kageyama’s body flat on the floor, allowing ample space for the emptiness in his abdomen to make itself known.  
“Oh my god!” said Hinata, “Was that a tiger? Are you going to eat me?”  
“Dumbass.”  
“Jeez, man,” said Tanaka, “Didn’t you eat lunch?”  
“Yes.”  
“No, you didn’t! I only saw you drinking milk.”  
“Hinata, you dumbass little snitch.”  
“What’re you guys doing! Get your asses back to practice!” called Ukai.  
Tanaka and Hinata groaned, and the three of them got to their feet. “Wait, Kageyama,” said Suga, as Kageyama was making his way back to the court, “I have to talk to you.”

Kageyama sat down next to Suga on the steps outside of the gym, “When was the last time you ate anything?”  
Kageyama lost his composure. He shrugged.  
“Was it today?”  
“Yes.”  
“Kageyama. You have to eat.”  
“I did!”  
“Liar. We’re talking to Ukai after practice.” Kageyama stood up with Suga to walk back into practice, but Suga stopped him.  
“No.”  
“What?”  
“You’re not practicing on an empty stomach. It’s not safe.”  
Kageyama stared at him incredulously.  
“I’m glad you’re understanding how serious this is.”

Kageyama sat cross-legged outside the gym on the hot concrete until Ukai stepped out a few minutes later, twirling his keys on his finger. “Hey, kid. Why don’t you come with me? Let’s go get your stuff.”  
Kageyama didn’t say anything. He gave a sharp nod and stood up. Ukai followed him to the club room where Kageyama grabbed his bag and threw his warm-ups on.  
“We’ll go to my place. It’s pretty late, huh? We’ll eat dinner. Does that ruin any plans?”  
“No, sir.” Kageyama couldn’t catch his mistake in time.  
“No need to be so formal. We’re buddies.”  
Kageyama gave Ukai a skeptical look.  
“Okay. Well. Whatever! We’re comfortable with each other, right. We’ll just chat is all.” Kageyama climbed into Ukai’s van. It was pretty clean- but it smelled like smoke.

“How was the food?”  
“Good. Really good.”  
“I’m glad. You looked hungry.” Kageyama shrugged. “Tell me about your dad. I heard a little from Suga and Tanaka.”  
“Well… he won’t pay me anymore. For three months, I mean. But it’s only for three months.”  
“How much money do you have left?”  
Kageyama swallowed, “5,000 yen. But.. actually, I only have three weeks and two months left.”  
Ukai looked at him skeptically. “That’s not enough.” Kageyama shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I’ll help you out. How does that sound?”  
“N-no! It’s fine, sir. Don’t worry.”  
“Stop calling me sir. It makes me feel old. How about this… how many times a day can you afford to eat?”  
“Enough. It’s fine, si- coach.”  
“What’s 5,000 divided by… let’s see… seven times eleven, right?” Ukai pulled his cellphone out.  
“It’s really okay. My dad doesn't want people to help me. It’s a punishment, so-”  
“It’s 64.”  
“What?”  
“You have 64 yen per day left. That’s not enough, right? So what’s 64 times two…” Ukai punched in some numbers on his phone calculator. “129. Still not much. Or 64 times three is… 192. And if you add that up and buy stuff in bulk… That’s breakfast, okay? Takeda will convince the school to give you lunch for free. You can eat dinner here.”  
“It’s really fine. I don’t need that.”  
“C’mon, kid. Just trust me. It won’t be for the whole three months. Just until I talk to your dad.”  
“No!” said Kageyama, “You don’t understand- he’ll get mad if he finds out I told you!”  
“Kageyama,” said Ukai with an uncharacteristic softness, “You say you don’t need help. But, You’ve spent 1000 yen in a week already, right? Suga said you had 6000 yen. So, there’s really no way for you to survive on that little money for three months-”  
“Three weeks and two months.”  
“Whatever. You’ve got to let someone help you. I don’t want you to starve to death. Or eat Hinata or something.”  
Kageyama managed to choke out, “O- okay.”

Kageyama received a mysterious 4000 yen from his father on Venmo after eating at Ukai’s place for six days. When Kageyama asked Ukai about it, he just winked, “But, you can still eat at my place. The company is nice.”  
“Company? Aren’t you surrounded by us a lot?”  
“Shut up. I bet you never cook for yourself. It’ll be good for you. I’m making shrimp tempura tonight.”  
Thinking about shrimp tempura made Kageyama’s mouth water. “Okay.”


	2. A Good Kid (Goshiki-centric and a little Tendou-centric too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goshiki has a troublesome little sister. She causes him a lot of stress. Luckily for him, Tendou is great at making people feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of underage drinking and drug use, though there is no direct use by the main characters. 
> 
> Also, I'm cautioning that my computer was being dumb and it would not proofread this right! There might be some errors!

Goshiki only got to see his family about once per month. Shiratorizawa was a boarding school, so Goshiki lived in the dorms there. And, unfortunately for him, underclassmen did not get to choose their own roommates.   
Not that his roommate was overly bad. He wasn’t particularly rude or nice. In fact, he didn’t even talk to Goshiki very often. Goshiki thought he was a little weird. He didn’t play any sports and was super into astrology. He seemed a little standoffish, but he probably thought Goshiki was weird, too. Goshiki avoided talking to him if possible.   
Usually, though, Goshiki didn’t have any problems being away from home or having a weird roommate. He loved being at volleyball practice, where he felt like he could take it easy and be himself. Being in his room occasionally felt a little uptight.   
The one thing that did make Goshiki’s life quite a bit harder was his unruly little sister back at home. She was fifteen and had already had two run-ins with drugs, vaping, and alcohol- last January being the most recent run-in (so, a little over a year previous). Goshiki assumed she’d been straightened out by his parents (pretty much). They’d taken away her cell phone for a good long time, and paid for her therapy twice a week. They’d even taken the door off her room.   
So, Goshiki hadn’t felt worried about her.   
That was until his mother came to visit him at school. One weekend. They usually went out to lunch and walked around downtown for a while. Sometimes, they’d go grocery shopping. Goshiki had even invited Tendou to hang out with them once- he’d been pretty excited for his mom to meet his volleyball upperclassman.   
Today, though, something was a little off. Goshiki noticed it when they were standing outside a Chinese restaurant, looking the menu over. “Are you okay, Mom?”  
“Oh, yes, honey. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”  
Goshiki felt a pang of guilt. “Oh. I’m sorry… What happened?”  
Goshiki’s mother pressed a hand over her forehead. “God, Tsutomu. Your sister is in some pretty big trouble.”  
Goshiki frowned, “What? Why?”  
“You’ll never guess, oh, goodness.” They stepped back from the menu to allow more flow for the sidewalk. “I woke up last night, around 2. I didn’t know why at first.” Goshiki swallowed and nodded. “Well, it was because I heard whispering.”  
“... Oh.”   
“I thought she was on the phone or something. Well, let me tell you, I got up to tell her to go to sleep, and there were two boys in her room. One of them was about your age!”  
“Oh… Jeez.”  
“Yeah.”  
“What’d you even do?”  
His mother gave a sheepish smile, “Oh, I said something like: ‘Who the hell are you?!’”  
“Did you kick them out?!”   
“Of course, I did. It really was bothering me, because Ichika kept saying she’d known them for years. But, I’ve never heard of them, so I sat her down, and said, ‘Ichika, I know you’re lying. You better tell the truth.’”  
“God.”  
“She’d only known one of them for two days. The other one she’d never even met.”  
“Augh- I’m sorry, mom,” Goshiki swallowed down the horror and guilt pent up in his throat, “You can always cancel on me if you’re too busy.”  
“I know, Tsutomu. I really wanted to see you, my oldest baby!” His mother squeezed his bicep.   
Goshiki swallowed. “What are you guys gonna do?”  
“Your father and I are still talking about it… we’re thinking maybe that her therapy isn’t working. I mean- she talks to that lady twice a week, but we never know what goes on there. We have no way of knowing if she's getting a little better or not.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, she’s definitely going to be grounded. We’re still talking about what we’re going to do for her birthday party.”  
“Oh, yeah? I forgot about that.”  
“Heh, we told her she could have a sleepover. Your father doesn't want to cancel it, though. He thinks it’s too mean.” Goshiki shrugged. 

They ordered their food and ate outside at a park. Goshiki’s mom had to get going pretty soon after- his father had to leave the house for an appointment and they didn’t want Ichika to be alone in his house.   
Goshiki felt a little empty inside as he sat on his bed, thinking about how angry he was at Ichika. He knew it was wrong- but he couldn’t help but feel that way. How could she sneak people into their house- people she’d only known for up to two days? Didn’t she know how dangerous that was? She didn’t know who they were. They could have been anyone.  
Goshiki felt like Ichika’s mom thinking about it. It frustrated him to no end. He understood that she had mental hardships. But, he didn’t want to worry about her anymore.   
Goshiki swallowed thickly and pulled out his cellphone to text Tendou. Tendou was phenomenal at making people feel better- he was pretty goofy and dumb. However embarrassed or dumb you felt, he always had a story to top it.  
He sort of wondered if Tendou could top his unruly little sister.  
Goshiki texted:

'Hey tendou'

Tendou took a few minutes to reply, which was pretty phenomenally quick by Tendou’s replying standards: 

'Bowl cut!!!!

U need smthin bby????'

Goshiki swallowed:

'Can we go to dinner 2nite?'

Tendou’s reply made him smile:

'(ㆁᴥㆁ✿)

Ofc!

Can my man ushi ushi come?'

Goshiki giggled at Tendou’s way of typing. He was so contagiously euphoric all the time.

'Ya <3'

Goshiki met up with Tendou and Ushijima outside the entrance to the cafeteria building- which was pretty old and tended to have dim, flickering lighting and uncomfortable chairs. But, it was cheap, especially for Tendou, who was constantly broke.  
“Hello,” Tendou sang, pressing a forearm into Goshiki’s shoulder to lean on him (even though Tendou was only three inches taller), “Beautiful bowl-cut baby. How goes it?”  
“Okay.”   
“Only okay?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Is something wrong, Goshiki?” asked Ushijima, almost looming behind Tendou, stoic and (mostly) silent. Were they really able to tell that quickly that he was upset?  
“No- or- sort of. Let’s go in, though.”  
Tendou made a funny sound with his mouth- a sort of sympathetic “Tch.” Goshiki patted his wrist.

They sat down inside as Ushijima tried to chide Tendou into eating something other than lucky charms (for the second time that day, apparently). Tendou, unfortunately for Ushijima, turned to Goshiki, “Kay, now what’s wrong with you? Is it your little sister?”  
Goshiki made a face. Sometimes he forgot about that mind-reading thing Tendou did. “... It is.”  
“... Do you want to talk about it?”  
“Well… she snuck two boys into the house.”  
“Eww…” Tendou sat back in his chair. “Who were they.”  
“I mean, I don’t think she really knew them.”  
Ushijima cleared his throat, “That’s irresponsible.”  
“I know…” Goshiki laughed nervously, “I’m a little worried.”  
Tendou swallowed a bite of lucky charms. “I bet. When did this happen?”  
“Last night. At like… 2 or something.”  
“Jeez!”  
“I know.”  
“And this is the sister- I mean- the only sister. The one with… the drug stuff?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Sounds like a handful. What’re your parents doing?”  
“Well… they’re grounding her. But, her birthday party was supposed to be in a week… my dad wants to let her have it.”  
Ushijima made a face, “Why?”  
Goshiki shrugged, “He feels bad. I guess.” Goshiki took a sip of the mint tea Ushijima had set in front of him, claiming it helped with stress.  
“It seems like you shouldn’t trust her- of course, that’s only my opinion.”  
Goshiki wanted to laugh at the little bit of fluster Ushijima had shown, “I agree!”  
“So,” said Tendou, cocking his head to the left, “What’re you worried about, then?”  
“I just-” Goshiki took a deep breath. He knew he was overly angry at her. He didn’t need to be too mean, “She makes terrible choices. She’s gotten drunk and high more times than I have- not that I’m jealous or something. But she’s on anti-depressants and goes to therapy. I just… always feel like she’s at her limit of the bad stuff she could do, but I’m wrong every time. And, my mom- augh- my mom doesn't deserve it.”  
“I’m sorry.” Tendou threw his weight back against his chair, “That sucks. She sounds… I don’t know.”   
“Me either.”  
“My dad almost punched me into another dimension when I didn’t make curfew.”  
Goshiki stifled a laugh. “... What does that mean?” Ushijima asked.  
Tendou rolled his eyes and gave a snippy retort. Goshiki was glad he’d texted him. Tendou was good at making him feel better.

'Hellooooo~

My beautiful bowl cut boy 🥺

Miracle boy and i are watchin a movie tomorrow night!

U wanna come??!??!?!?!??

Semisemi bro might come 2!'

Goshiki closed his laptop- he’d just sent his little sister a birthday gift from Amazon prime. He’d sent her some fancy chocolate and a giant stuffed bunny (she loved bunnies). His mother probably wouldn’t have been very appreciative of the giant stuffie- but he couldn’t hold himself back. Ichika would love it.  
That brought Goshiki to the next order of business- responding to Tendou’s message. And, to say that he was happy his underclassman had thought to invite him was a massive understatement. He was ecstatic.   
But, he’d gotten considerably pissed off at Shibaru- he did not follow Tendou around like a puppy.   
Goshiki replied to Tendou’s message:

'YA （＾³＾）～♪'

Tendou’s reply was far from instantaneous (as they usually were). Goshiki received it about two hours later:

'Kk Tsutomu! C u thn!'

Goshiki popped his head into the common area that Ushijima had rented the key to. It was pretty nice- decked out in a telltale dormitory manner with a rustic, exposed brick wall, cream paint, and plastic white furniture besides an old couch in the center of the room that looked like it was from the ’70s. Tendou had claimed the sofa, already, by throwing his entire body across it (unfortunately for Goshiki and Ushijima who were too kind to shove his lanky ass onto the ground- unlike Semi).   
“Tendou, get the hell out of the way.”  
“No!”  
“You have to share. There’s only one sofa here.”  
“No!”   
Semi reached over the back of the couch to toss Tendou’s legs onto the floor (narrowly missing Ushijima’s head, as he was neatly sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch), and hopped over, delivering a pretty hard slap to Tendou’s calf. The clap made Goshiki cringe. “Ahh! Jeez, Semisemi.”  
“Jesus Christ. Stop calling me that.”  
Tendou laughed.  
“Hello, Goshiki,” said Ushijima from the floor, once he’d noticed Goshiki’s presence. “Please, come sit down. Tendou is… taking up more space he needs on the couch, so you might have to sit on the floor.”  
“Or shove his ass off.”  
“Goshiki would never assault me like you do, Semisemi!”  
Goshiki sat down on the old carpet in front of the sofa, next to Ushijima. He noticed Ushijima had an extremely erect posture- how did he keep that up?  
A hand came down to harshly ruffle his hair. “Hello! Your bowl cut’s looking fab. I mean- it usually is.”  
“Thanks, Tendou.”  
“What was it that we were watching? I forgot?”  
“Jurassic World. Ushijima hasn’t seen it,” Semi chimed in.  
“Really?” asked Goshiki, “It came out years ago!”  
“I never had any intent to watch it- but Satori is evidently a fan?”  
“Oh, not of Jurassic World.”  
“Then why are we watching this?” Semi hissed out.  
“Because Ushiwaka hasn’t seen it, and I don’t want to debate about what to watch for 45 minutes!”  
“Ooh,” said Goshiki.  
Tendou and Semi fought over the remote, and Goshiki’s cell phone vibrated against his butt.   
There was a photo of the cake his mom had made for his sister’s birthday. It was pretty cute- and it made him the slightest bit homesick to see. Goshiki clicked his camera on and took a selfie, using an unexpecting Ushijima as his background. He sent it to his mom.  
Semi started the movie. 

They decided to take an intermission about ⅔ of the way through the movie. Tendou kept saying how badly he had to pee- and it had evidently been getting on Semi’s nerves.  
Goshiki shot another quick text to his mom. His father had sort of guilt-tripped her into letting Ichika have a party at an arcade with two friends. It was supposedly supervised, but Goshiki sort of felt bad for his mom. He wouldn’t have felt like sitting in an arcade with three fifteen-year-old girls for any amount of time.

'How’s the party going?'

Goshiki tucked his phone back into his sweatshirt pocket and Tendou asked Ushijima what he was thinking of the movie.  
“It’s certainly exciting.”  
“But, do you like it?”  
“‘Like’? I’m not sure. But it’s entertaining, at least.”  
“Tough crowd.”  
“Aren’t you the one who said you didn’t like it either?” asked Semi.   
“No- I’m just not a fan of it. I like Jurassic Park better. I mean- dinosaurs are cool enough, so why’d they have to make a new one up?”  
“There are already lots of those movies. Hollywood needed a new way to profit off it,” Ushijima added.  
Goshiki’s phone buzzed again, he ignored it for a moment- as Tendou and Semi’s conversation was quickly escalating into a (rather interesting) argument. He smiled at them before pulling his phone out:

'Ichika got high in the br. Vomiting and unconscious. Otw to the hospital.'

Goshiki blinked. Panic suddenly gripped his chest. He reached onto the couch to grip Tendou’s ankle. He inhaled shakily. “T- Te- T-” He couldn’t breathe. His words were stuck in his chest as he pressed his fingers into the cool flesh of Tendou’s ankle.   
“Tsutomu? Are you okay?” Goshiki couldn’t answer. He couldn’t breathe right- his breaths were coming shallow and too often. His heart felt like it was going to make his chest explode, and the text from his mom bore into his eyes. “Ushijima!” Tendou called frantically, “Smack him!”   
Ushijima placed a firm hand on Goshiki’s shoulder, taking his phone in the other hand. “Oh- Satori- hey, Goshiki. You need to just breathe- in and out.”  
Goshiki tried to concentrate on breathing- Ushijima was right- but he kept thinking about his sister. God, she was the dumbest person on the face of the planet. She would’ve taken anything from anyone- alcohol, drugs. She wouldn’t have cared if it was a drink, or an edible, or an injection. A sob lodged in Goshiki’s throat- she was so dumb! It made him angry, but not angry enough to overcome the immense panic mounting inside him.   
Blubs of black clouded his vision. He gripped his throat with his hand. It hurt- there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t sit with his mom at the hospital. He couldn’t force Ichika to give him the password to her phone to see where she’d gotten anything from.   
Was it premeditated? Had she planned to meet up with someone who’d give her something like that? Had she stolen it? God- Goshiki hoped not. She’d get criminal charges if it was stolen.   
There was a pinch on his bicep- a hard one. Goshiki jolted and whipped his head to stare at Semi.   
“Hey- you weren’t breathing. Don’t blame him.” Goshiki jumped at Tendou’s voice- he hadn’t known Tendou was crouching right behind him. “Hey, Tsutomu.” One of Tendou’s boney hands was pressed up against his shoulder, “Do you… need a hug?”  
Goshiki threw his arms around Tendou, pressing his face into Tendou’s lanky arm.   
“I’m sure your sister will be okay,” said Ushijima, still seated on the ground near Goshiki. He rested a hand on Goshiki’s shoulderblade, “Lots of young people do things like this.”  
Goshiki sobbed. Tendou rubbed his hands up and down Goshiki’s upper arms. “Wh- What if sh- she…” Goshiki sobbed again, “Overdosed?!”  
“I’m sure she didn’t,” said Semi from the couch. “Your mom doesn’t know what it is, either. Maybe she just has alcohol poisoning. That sounds like alcohol poisoning.”  
“It also sounds like overdosing!” Goshiki shot Semi a glare.   
“Hey,” said Tendou, “He’s trying to make you feel better. But he’s right. Your mom has no idea what’s going on.”  
Goshiki pressed his face back down into Tendou. He could feel his wild heartbeat against the side of his face, and he felt guilty. God, he was pathetic.  
“Hey, Tsutomu,” Tendou continued, “It’ll be okay. I’ll wait with you for your mom to call.”

Goshiki fell asleep on the couch. Tendou was sitting next to his head, and Ushijima and Semi sat side-by-side on the floor. Ushijima gripped Goshiki’s cellphone in his hand. He’d sworn to wake him up if it rang.  
Tendou was a good friend, and Ushijima was quickly realizing that he was a good friend to more people than just him. As much as Goshiki hated to be teased about it, he adored Tendou. He followed him around and learned quirky little tricks to do with a volleyball. He’d (unfortunately) picked up the habit of drinking Monster. Ushijima had strongly expressed his disdain for Monster to both Tendou and Goshiki- who, of course, didn’t care. Ushijima didn’t care much, either.   
Luckily, though, Goshiki hadn’t picked up too many of Tendou’s bad habits. Not that Tendou had too many bad habits. In fact, Ushijima considered Tendou to be a relatively good influence for someone like Goshiki. He was kind, outgoing, and smart (whether or not his grades tended to reflect that was another story).  
Goshiki was a good kid. He went to every single practice, getting there on time (except for once, when he’d gotten in trouble with the hall monitor for running in the hallway). Ushijima felt a pang in his chest to see him so upset.  
Of course, he would get that upset, though. His family member was in the hospital, and Goshiki tended to be slightly emotional.   
And, Goshiki’s upsetness reminded him that he was lucky to have Tendou. He would have had no clue how to react on his own.   
Goshiki’s phone buzzed in Ushijima’s hand. He swallowed before placing a firm hand on Goshiki’s calf. “Goshiki, your mother is calling.”  
Goshiki sat bolt upright to snatch his phone from Ushijima. “Mom!” he answered.   
Ushijima glanced at Semi- who looked half-asleep. He tried not to look like he was listening to Goshiki’s conversation. Tendou didn’t- he looked pretty interested.  
“What does that mean?” Goshiki asked his mom, “God,” he said pretty quietly. “I’m so mad at her.” He covered his face with his hand, “I’m so mad!”  
Tendou scooted closer to put an arm around Goshiki’s shoulders. 

Goshiki awoke on Tendou’s bed. Tendou had elected to sleep on the floor (without any pillows or blankets), which Goshiki had been too upset to debate with.   
The call with his mom had gone okay. It turned out that Semi was right.  
Ichika had drunk the equivalent of ten shots of vodka, and thrown up all over the arcade before promptly passing out. Goshiki’s mom- in a frantic frenzy- had called his father, who showed up, and called 911.  
And, now she was fine. Goshiki checked his phone a little after waking, and there was another text from his mom.

'Guess what?

She isn’t even hungover.

Because the hospital gave her fluids last night with an IV.'

It sort of pissed him off.  
Tendou moaned about his back from the floor, and Ushijima was still fast asleep in his bed. The sun was barely up in the sky.  
Goshiki stood up and shook Tendou awake. “Tendou,” Goshiki whispered, “Tendou, take your bed back.”  
“Tsutomu?”  
“Yes?”  
“I forgot you were here. Hah.”  
“Why did you think you were on the floor, then?”  
Tendou sat up, “How’s your sister?” Goshiki swallowed and tried to shush him, “Oh, don’t worry. Wakatoshi would keep sleeping if this building collapsed.”  
Goshiki swallowed nervously, “She’s fine.”  
“Huh?”  
“She’s completely fine. It was alcohol poisoning.”  
“Huh, I guess Semisemi was right.”  
“Yeah. I guess she puked all over the arcade and passed out.”  
“Eww…”  
“Haha, yeah. My dad took a picture of her to show to her later.”  
“Wow. That’s kinda…” Tendou got a funny look on his face, “Nevermind.”  
Goshiki realized what he’d been thinking. “No, you’re right. It’s kinda funny.”  
Tendou smiled at him, “When did you get so good at reading minds, bowl-cut?”  
“I learned from the best.”  
“O’course.”  
“Tendou,” came Ushijima’s voice from his side of the room, gravely with sleep, “Keep it down.”  
“Haha, sorry miracle boy.” Tendou turned to Goshiki, “You wanna go get breakfast?”

Shiratorizawa gave their students a small allowance every two weeks in case they wanted to eat off-campus. Luckily for Tendou and Goshiki, the money had been directly deposited into their accounts the night before, so they waited in line at Starbucks.  
“How are you feeling?” Tendou asked him, turning backward in line to face him.  
“F-fine.”  
“You look like your head hurts.”  
Goshiki swallowed. Tendou was cool- but he might appreciate it if he could lay off the mind-reading for the next day or so. Goshiki’s mind was sort of a mess. His head did hurt, nonetheless. “Yeah.”  
“You should get coffee.”  
“Why?”  
“That’s what they put in Excedrin.”  
“Coffee?”  
“Caffeine.”  
Or, actually, maybe it would be better for Tendou to read his mind. He hadn’t known that caffeine might help his headache.   
Once they got their drinks, they sat down at a table. It was pretty early on a Saturday morning, so there weren’t many people around.  
“Are you mad?” Tendou asked him.  
“Yes.”  
“I would be, too.”  
“She’s just dumb. And, I don’t know how she thought she was going to get away with it.”  
“Ha. Yeah.”  
“Like, did she think she was going to come out of the bathroom, super drunk, and my mom wouldn’t notice?”  
“It seems like it.”  
Goshiki studied his hands under the table. “This is her third time with this sort of thing.”  
“It is?”  
“Yeah. Once I found a bag of her vaping stuff shoved under her bed. Cause, y’know. She’d taken my ball.”   
“... I’m sorry, Tsutomu.”  
“And, she went to class pretty high, and her teacher obviously found out. And, my mom found a bunch of those little convenience store bottles of vodka in her room that day.”  
“That’s frustrating.”  
Goshiki aggressively took a sip of his coffee, “I just don’t know why she thinks she needs to do this sort of thing!”  
“I know…”  
“My dad’s putting her on probation. God- augh! She’s so dumb!”  
“What does probation entail?”  
“He’s taking away her phone and her T.V. and some of her clothes and her makeup.”  
“Wow.”  
“She’s supposed to earn them back.”  
“Oh… I bet she wants her phone back first?”  
“Yeah. Probably.” Goshiki slumped back against his chair, “I wish I didn’t have to worry about her all the damn time.”  
“I bet. I also bet those minimum-wage arcade employees were pretty pissed to clean up a drunk teenager’s barf.”  
Goshiki snorted. “My mom made her give 7500 yen up as a tip.”  
“... I’m not gonna lie, Tsutomu. That’s kinda funny, too.”

Later, after Goshiki went back to his room, he got a text from his mom.  
It was a photo of Ichika, hugging the stuffed bunny Goshiki had ordered for her birthday. The text read:

'Ichika said to text and say that she loves the bunny.'

Maybe… Goshiki could get over his anger a little more quickly than he’d thought.


	3. Art Class (Kawanishi x Yamagata)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamagata gets put in art class, an elective that was not his first choice. Unfortunately for him, there are two disgusting homophobes who sit across the table from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning! There are mentions of the f-slur and talk of bullying.
> 
> The request was: "Yamagata is normally a very hyperactive and PDA-oriented person. So when that seems to decline, Taichi is concerned, regardless of how he says he hates it (he lies), and decides to try and guess what's going on. Eventually, he hears whispers talking shit about his bf (he holds back from starting a fight) and thinks it may have something to do with Yamagata's mood. He decides to ask the 3rd years, who do say some arrogant assholes been giving them shit but it's nothing to worry about. They know it's not their fault and Taichi figures out sense Yama is their libero he DOES feel responsible. His first thought is murder and he almost does it but Shirabu stops him. Eventually, Taichi goes with his second thought: go comfort his boyfriend." 
> 
> I did change it up a little, but I did try to stick pretty closely to the content of this request. I hope I did it justice! I didn't really feel that I had a good grasp on these two characters, so I did have to do a good amount of research! :)

Maybe he was a little overly-enthusiastic and emotional, but Yamagata tended to pride himself on being a fairly non-neurotic person that got along with the people around him relatively well. Though, sometimes, his emotions still tended to do him dirty.  
And, maybe that time he’d gotten loudly frustrated in art class was too much. It kept coming back to nip him in the ass.  
But, you couldn’t blame him for getting pissed off. Art class was what their school called a ‘combo class’ which meant that it consisted of students from several grade levels and classes. The school used it so students would be able to have the choice between several different electives. Yamagata couldn’t really say he was a fan.   
PE had been his first choice. Unfortunately, though, electives were issued on a first-come-first-serve sort of basis. That meant that, because his letter to Shiratorizawa with his 1st, 2nd, and 3rd choices for electives got lost in the mail, Yamagata got stuck in whatever was left over- which just happened to be art.  
Though, it wasn’t that Yamagata didn’t particularly like the topic of art. In fact, he’d enjoyed drawing and using watercolor for a long time. Sometimes, it even helped him cope with stress. The problem was almost centered on the fact that Shiratorizawa had a lot of money, as it was a private school that you had to pay to go to. Shiratorizawa offered lots of electives that looked relatively interesting. Yamagata had heard that Tendou was in a culinary class. Ushijima was taking botany. Semi had even managed to snag the last spot in a guitar class.   
There was a downside to Shiratorizawa’s wide array of electives, though. And, it was that everyone’s last choice was art. Therefore, Yamagata guessed he’d be stuck in art with a bunch of irresponsible first-year douchebags who couldn’t have been bothered to send in the letters with their elective choices on time.  
And, he was right. 

They were studying portraiture- entailing learning about the different proportions of a person’s face. A straight line drawn down from a pupil would line up with the corner of the mouth. The corners of the eyes aligned with the edges of the nostrils. The hairline to the eyebrow was nearly half of a face.   
All of that stuff was applicable pretty generally, Yamagata realized as he drew the image of Kawanishi’s face was one that he’d completely made up in his mind. This didn’t really look like him at all. Kawanishi had shorter eyebrows than this- and they didn’t really have strong arches. He had a longer head than the one he had drawn, and the area between his hairline and the top of his head was longer than the way he’d been taught to draw it. Although his teacher had done a relatively satisfactory job of teaching them to draw a pretty generic-looking face, this didn’t look like Kawanishi. Obviously (Yamagata was realizing), drawing a portrait of a random person and capturing the likeness of a specific person were leagues apart by terms of the skill level they required.   
The bell rang, and the teacher collected their portraits, announcing that the watercolor unit would begin the next day, and to bring in the photo reference of the person they wanted to paint.   
The only person Yamagata would even consider staring at a photo of long enough to produce a satisfactory watercolor image of was obviously Kawanishi. He smiled- Kawanishi was a good subject. His face wasn’t usually overly expressive- which was probably a good thing. Expressions made faces wrinkle in weird places, and Yamagata wasn’t sure if he was skilled enough to deal with that quite yet.   
Kawanishi was obviously good-looking (especially in Yamagata’s eyes). But, if you broke down each part of his face, you’d understand that his handsomeness ran pretty deeply. Every aspect of his entire body was good. He had a nice color of hair- softer red than that obnoxious number 10 from Karasuno (not that his hair color was obnoxious- it was more so just his every element of that kid put together- personality and all). He had pretty eyes, with heavy, straight lids that made him look a little sleepy. His eyes were warm brown, and the orange-ish tint to his skin complemented the natural bit of blue that gathered under his eyes. His body was long and lean- but Yamagata especially loved his hands. They (like the rest of him) were slender and long. They were incredibly graceful. Yamagata liked the way his bones lifted and showed through his skin the slightest bit when he typed essays.   
But, alas, making a watercolor drawing of someone’s hands sounded really difficult, and probably wouldn’t fit the rubric for the watercolor portrait he was supposed to complete for class. Yamagata would have to stick with getting a good photo of Kawanishi’s face.

Yamagata could feel Kawanishi’s intense gaze pressing on the back of his neck as he finished up his serves for the night. He always waited up at the back of the gym for Yamagata to finish his 100 serves- squatting flat-footed in a cute little ball like a kid. It was sort of endearing, admittedly.  
Yamagata was also glad he wasn’t a jump-server. That sounded hard. But, being the libero- he was still making his way through his 100 serves at a pretty painstakingly slow pace.   
But, he did take his 100 nightly serves seriously- he took volleyball seriously. He was their team’s libero, and he was 5’ 8”. He really could not afford to fall behind, especially with their coach being the crotchety, height-obsessive old fart he was.  
Finally, he hit his last serve over successfully. He’d only missed a handful that night, which he considered to be a pretty good margin of error.  
“Sorry,” he said as he came to stand by Kawanishi, still squatting on the floor, “I took so long.”  
“No problem.” Kawanishi straightened up to his feet. Yamagata grinned at him before slipping his arms under Kawanishi’s to grip his waist in a vice-hug. Kawanishi lightly patted his shoulder back, mumbling a complaint that Yamagata chose to ignore. It felt nice to hold someone, though Kawanishi was a tiny bit unpleasantly warm from just having finished a rather intense, 4 hour-long volleyball practice.  
Yamagata pulled back, gripping the fabric of the front of Kawanishi’s t-shirt. He grinned up at Kawanishi, who blankly stared back. “We should get going.”  
“Mmm-hmm. Okay.”

Yamagata usually liked to get in and out of the locker room as quickly as he could. It absolutely reeked of sweat and there were usually multiple loud arguments and conversations going on simultaneously. People didn’t mind the volume of their voices- so the room quickly became suffocating with the smell of sweat and deafening with the voices of the louder teammates in the locker room echoing off of the walls.  
Another locker room normality was the constant snapping of towels, something in which Yamagata occasionally partook when someone had been particularly obnoxious during practice. It was the slightest bit funny, minus the fact that Kawanishi bruised quite easily and Yamagata didn’t like to see the thick purple bruises on his rib cage when someone snapped their towel at him.  
The thought of snapping people with towels was a catalyst for Yamagata’s absolute least favorite part of being in the locker room- the fact that their coach made them shower before leaving. It was awkward to be in the same room with a cluster of riled-up, naked teenagers hiding around corners to smack you with their semi-damp towel when you were least expecting it.   
There was also a problem that lied in the fact that there were not enough showers for everyone. Luckily for Yamagata, upperclassmen got first dibs on the showers, although (unluckily for Yamagata), he ended up having to finish his entire shower before Kawanishi even got to start his. He usually ended up having to wait a while for Kawanishi to finish up and change back into his clothes.  
Today, the warm water felt good running down Yamagata’s absolutely shredded knees. He’d busted his right one 2 days previous on Saturday when Tendou had convinced him, Kawanishi, Semi, and Reon to practice with them. Thinking of the receive he’d carelessly performed when Reon nearly spiked the volleyball down hard into his face made him cringe a little. They’d been practicing over Ushijima’s mom van in the parking lot, so the feeling of hot, rough asphalt against his unprotected knees hadn’t felt overly good.   
Yamagata finished up and popped his head out of the small, metal shower cubicle as he wrapped a thick, white towel around his waist. He whispered as loudly as he could (in an attempt for no one else to hear him) for Kawanishi to come and take his place. He didn’t want to wait around forever to get home, even if Reon was next in line for the shower.  
As he got dressed, Yamagata awkwardly hung his towel across his shoulders. This was the one time he was lucky to be short- his towel covered most of what he wanted to be covered until he pulled his pants up and over his wet legs. It didn’t feel that great to put on his sweaty practice clothes again, but he didn’t have much of a choice.  
Just as he finished getting dressed, Kawanishi opened his own locker right next to Yamagata’s to retrieve his clothes, before slamming it shut. Yamagata made sure to deliver a poke to Kawanishi’s belly button before sitting on the bench, damp with condensation from the showers, to lace up his running shoes.   
“You ready?” Kawanishi asked stoically after a few moments, pulling his school bag across his chest.  
“I’ve been ready.” Yamagata stood up, making to pull his own school bag over his head when one of Kawanishi’s frigid hands covered his own.   
“I got it.”  
Aww. Yamagata’s chest filled with warm affection. He planted his hands on Kawanishi’s shoulders to yank him down to lip-height and press a wet kiss to the center of his forehead. “M’kay.”

“Do you want my jacket?”  
“No, it’s not that cold.” It was true. Even though he was shivering, it was because his hair was still soaking wet, and there was a considerable amount of wind. Yamagata wished they lived in the same dorm building. Kawanishi lived closer to the gym than he, but he still insisted on walking Yamagata all the way home. It was obnoxiously sweet, and a very characteristic romantic gesture for him. Kawanishi tended not to be overly physically affectionate, unlike Yamagata.   
And, though Kawanishi often chose to complain about the amount of physical affection Yamagata provided him with, Yamagata wasn’t really all that put off by it. He could tell when Kawanishi sank into his touch. “Thanks for carrying my bag,” said Yamagata. They’d (unfortunately) arrived, meaning they’d have to part momentarily. Yamagata studied Kawanishi’s face, suddenly aware that he was the slightest bit pale. “Are you okay?” Yamagata slid a hand around Kawanishi’s bigger one, still cold like it had been back in the locker room.  
Kawanishi pressed his other hand over his forehead, squeezing his eyes closed. “Yeah.”  
“You don’t look okay.”  
“I just have a headache.”  
“Aww…”  
“It’s fine. I mean- it’ll be fine. Tomorrow, I mean. It’ll be gone by tomorrow.”  
Yamagata glanced to the ground, studying the shoes provided by their school that they were both wearing. He didn’t want Kawanishi to go home when he wasn’t feeling well. “Why don’t you come up to my room?”  
“It’s okay. And, you have a roommate.”  
“Reon? He won’t be back for a while. You stole his spot in the shower.”  
Kawanishi’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, “Okay.”  
And, so, Yamagata led him inside. They were allowed to be in each other’s rooms in Shiratorizawa (as long as they were of the same gender), so passing the front desk was no problem. He lived on the first floor, in room 166. Yamagata unlocked the door, and let Kawanishi in first, who sat down stiffly on his bed.  
Yamagata shot a quick text to Reon, informing him that Kawanishi was there:

Taichi doesn't feel good so I brought him here

Reon’s quick response was:

okay 👍

Might be a while since I have to clean up tonight

Yamagata appreciated having a relatively easy-going roommate.  
He sat down on the bed beside Kawanishi, patting his lap. Kawanishi gave him a funny look. “What?”  
“Lie down,” Yamagata said, “I’ll rub your head.”  
“... Why?”  
“Um… to help your headache?”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes, dummy!”   
Kawanishi relented, pretty much flopping sideways with his head in Yamagata’s lap. Yamagata pressed his fingers into his temples, rubbing small circles into the soft skin there. He could tell that it provided some relief. It would give Yamagata a leg up on the occasional arguments Kawanishi started when he claimed he didn’t like to be touched.  
Staring down at Kawanishi’s face reminded him of something. He pulled his cellphone out of his backpack, sitting next to him on the bed, and snapped a photo of him. His eyes were closed, but in a watercolor painting, the reason for that could… maybe be left up to artistic interpretation?   
Kawanishi was so handsome. He’d make a beautiful painting subject in class tomorrow.

“Good morning, everyone!” Yamagata’s art teacher called, “I hope everyone brought a photo of the person they want to paint! You can even paint yourself if you’d like!” Yamagata had forgotten his cellphone, actually, and had to sprint back to get it between periods. “Why don’t you get that out, guys?”  
Yamagata unlocked his phone and opened up the picture he’d taken the night before. Looking at it put a burst of warm affection in his chest. It wasn’t the best quality photo, admittedly, but he didn’t care overly much. The quality came from the subject matter, anyway.  
Their teacher walked them through sketching out every facial feature, reminding them of the various proportions that went into drawing a face. Yamagata was impressed with himself. He (personally) thought that his picture looked relatively recognizable as the person it was supposed to be- Kawanishi.  
Suddenly, though, he got distracted by the stupid freshmen that sat across from him. They’d both failed to bring in photographs of a person they wanted to paint and ended up taking photos of themselves five minutes before class. They weren’t really following along with the teacher’s lesson- though that was expected (what with art being the lowest-interest on the totem pole of electives).   
But, the thing that had distracted them was the fact that they were whispering about something that Yamagata could only catch a few words of.   
And one of those words was the f-a-word. The f-slur. Whatever you wanted to call it- Yamagata heard it come from one of their mouths.  
He glanced up at him, and they both hurriedly looked away. They’d been staring right at him. He heard a final conversation-ending phrase from the boy on the left, barely a cowardly whisper, “It’s that homo’s fuckin’ ‘boyfriend’,” both the boys snickered it off.  
Yamagata tried to brush it off. He tried really hard. But, for the rest of the teacher’s lesson, he couldn’t stop trying to listen in on whatever those douchebags were talking about, catching the occasional phrase. They weren’t talking about him, but he couldn’t help the mix of paranoia and mortification building in his stomach. What if they brought him back up?  
The teacher flicked the light back on (they’d been off to allow the use for the overhead projector), and told them to get started on the watercolor section of their project.  
Yamagata swallowed thickly, taking controlled breaths. The kids sitting across him were whispering again, throwing occasional glances his way and laughing.  
He decided to get started on the undertone.

The next day, he returned to art class with vigor in his chest. He’d just tell those dumbass jerks to shut the fuck up. Or at least- that was what Semi had told him to say. Not that Yamagata didn’t agree.   
He knelt on the ground to pull his painting out of the drying rack. It was missing. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. He could feel his heart almost vibrating in his chest as he stood up straight. He knew where he had left his painting. He’d left it right there, on the drying rack, between the third and fourth wire sheets. Now, it was gone.   
He took a deep breath, slowly approaching the teacher’s desk. She quickly noticed his presence and slid something into her desk drawer. Her posture straightened.  
“Yamagata-kun, I’m sorry. I’m sure you noticed your piece was gone from the rack?”  
“Y-” His throat was dry, “Y-es.”   
“I’m very sorry, something has happened to it. I-”  
“What happened?”  
“I- I’m not sure if-” God damn it! This teacher! She needed to get over herself! She needed to tell him what happened to his artwork.  
“Tell me.” Yamagata realized that probably had sounded relatively threatening. “Please. Tell me what happened to it.”  
“I’m sorry… it was destroyed, Yamagata-kun. Someone ripped it up and wrote on it.” She slid her desk door open, and carefully retrieved the pieces in her hands.  
She was right. Someone had torn his painting apart into three sections. The painting he’d worked so hard on- the painting of the person he loved. He swallowed. That wasn’t the worst part.   
On each section of his destroyed painting, someone had written a letter with a thick, red marker. The letters of the word those douchebag guys that sat across from him had been whispering to each other the day before. On the face of the person he loved.  
“You’re excused from this assignment, Yamag-” He stopped listening. His heart had dropped into his stomach. He clenched and unclenched his fists until his nails made crescents in his palm that bled.

“Where’s Yamagata?”   
Kawanishi glanced up from where he was sitting on the cool cement bench in the locker room. He’d just finished up his shower.  
Yamagata had been missing from practice. He wouldn’t respond to his text messages (not uncommon in itself- but he surely would have let Kawanishi know if something was wrong- right?). “I’m sorry, Semi. I don’t know.”  
Semi seemed to swallow. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I talked to him about something weird this morning. Did… did he say anything about art class?”  
“No. No, not to me.”  
“Oh.” Semi glanced over his shoulder. The row of lockers they were between was empty except for Goshiki, who was wearing headphones and nodding off as he waited for his turn in the shower. “He told me that the freshmen fucks that sit across from him in art were calling him a…”  
“A…. a what?”  
“The f-slur.”  
“What?!” Kawanishi bolted to his feet, his heart suddenly racing in his chest almost painfully quick, “What? When did he tell you?”  
“This morning, but I-”  
Kawanishi stormed towards the exit, “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on!” Shirabu’s warm hand latched onto his wrist, “You’re naked, where are you going?!”  
“I’m beating those assholes up!” Kawanishi wrenched his hand from Shirabu’s grasp, but Shiabu just grabbed it again.  
“Hey! What assholes?!” Kawanishi tore his wrist away from Shirabu again.   
“Let me go! I have to go!” His heart was racing. Dark anger spotted his vision. Those idiots. They were the reason Yamagata wasn’t at practice, Kawanishi was sure. He swallowed thickly, fighting down tears that were stabbing at the back of his eyes.   
“Hey! You need to calm down! What is going on?!” Shirabu’s tone was firm but intense and confused. Kawanishi threw his weight to his left hip, crossing his arms over his chest.   
“Someone called Yamagata the f-a-word!”  
“Oh, god. That’s horrible.”  
“Yes, and that’s why I’m literally going to stab someone,” Kawanishi made for the door again, but two arms wrapped firmly around his waist.   
He thought of Yamagata, suddenly. Maybe it was the way Shirabu had grabbed him- it was almost like something Yamagata would do- he tended to be pretty touchy. It was almost sweet- almost tender. Shirabu’s grip on his waist tightened, and Kawanishi clapped his hands over his face. God. He was a bad person. If this had been ongoing for more than a day… how hadn’t he noticed something was wrong?!  
A sob wracked his body. Why was he worried about those freshmen assholes when he needed to worry about Yamagata? “Hey,” Shirabu’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle, “Hey, you should just talk to him. It’s okay. He’ll be okay.” Kawanishi sobbed again.   
“H- he’ll b- be mad at m- me!”  
“You’re pretty dumb, huh?”  
“No, I’m not!”  
Shirabu gripped Kawanishi by the biceps, “He’ll want to talk to you more than anyone right now. You think going to jail for assault will make him feel better?”  
Kawanishi avoided his gaze. “N- no.”  
“Good, then. Now, get dressed, and go talk to him.”

There was a sharp knock at his door. Yamagata had sort of been dreading it. He’d known that Kawanishi was bound to come to check on him. He felt bad for dreading it, but he didn’t really feel like reliving the pain of what he’d felt earlier.  
So, he ignored the knock. But, unfortunately for him, he’d failed to remember Kawanishi’s stoic and incredibly persistent nature. There was another knock- or actually- thirteen sharp, loud knocks. Yamagata sat up from his bed with a slight eye roll and opened the door up. “Hey.” Kawanishi had a funny expression. “Are you okay?” Yamagata asked.  
“W- what happened?” Kawanishi asked back, a strange, deep tone to his voice.   
“Semi didn’t already tell you?”  
“Well… he just didn’t tell me the details.”  
“... And… you want me to tell you the details.”  
“I want to know what happened to you.”  
Yamagata let his gaze fall from Kawanishi’s face. “Hah. Some douchebags just… they ruined a piece of my art. It just… hit me wrong. You know.”  
Kawanishi shifted his weight. “What… was the artwork?”  
Yamagata felt the familiar pang of shame in his chest. He could feel tears welling in his eyes. “Uhh… it was of… I mean…”  
“Of what?”  
Yamagata looked back at Kawanishi’s face- but he couldn’t keep staring at him. His face was painted with anger and concern. It was the beautiful face that he’d tried to recapture in that work. He’d studied each minute detail of that face. He had almost felt like he’d gotten to know Kawanishi better as a person, in the small scar on his left jaw, in the slight worry lines near his eyes.   
Now- the beauty and intimacy he’d grown with that work were ruined. It was worse than ruined.  
“It was of you.” Yamagata clapped his hands over his face. God, why was he crying? It was just some ignorant assholes who wanted to give him a bad day. Why did it feel so insulting to him? Or, actually, it probably felt insulting because it had felt like they had ripped apart a chunk of his soul- the closest he could get to a physical representation of his significant other (other than his physical body).  
Two gentle hands rested on either side of his face, prompting him to look up. He complied. Kawanishi was lucky that Yamagata loved him so much. He wouldn’t want anyone else to see him like this.   
Kawanishi pressed an aggressive kiss down on Yamagata’s lips. It was sort of funny, as it was very characteristic of Kawanishi’s personality- sharp, short, a little too hard. The gesture was probably the sweetest one that Yamagata had received from another person in his entire life, though.   
His hands were still on the side of Yamagata’s face- cold after running through the night air (right after a shower) to get there. Kawanishi pressed another kiss to Yamagata’s forehead before pulling him into his chest to give him a hard hug.   
Kawanishi’s hands were cold, but his chest was warm. Yamagata could feel the thudding of his heartbeat against his temple. “I’ll be your subject anytime.” Yamagata could feel his words vibrate deep in his chest.  
“Huh?”  
Kawanishi pulled away from the hug to stare into Yamagata’s eyes, “You said the artwork was of me. I’ll model for you whenever you want. Just tell me.”  
Yamagata smiled at him.  
He had a sweet boyfriend, huh?


	4. Suitemates (Bokuto x Akaashi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi has bad suitemates and looks to Bokuto for comfort.

Akaashi wished that he was just one year older. He’d have been the same age as Bokuto. And, maybe... they could have lived together. Whether or not Bokuto would have gotten on his nerves overly much was a bit of a different story. But, Akaashi was sure it would have been better than where he lived now.  
At the university they went to, you were required to live in underclassmen housing for your entire freshman year. Unfortunately for Akaashi, that meant he was constantly surrounded by a herd of immature freshmen that hadn’t quite gotten into the swing of living on their own yet.   
There was also the underage drinking and drugs that factored into Akaashi’s disdain for living in the freshmen dorms. His suitemates were constantly bringing in alcohol. Still, he didn’t really care about that. Even if they got caught with booze, Akaashi wouldn’t be affected. It was how fucking loud they could be that Akaashi cared about.   
They lived in an apartment-style suite, with four bedrooms connected to a communal kitchen-living room area in the center, so Akaashi didn’t hear from them much after he first moved in. All four of them spent most of their time in their respective rooms.   
That was, Akkashi didn’t hear them much until they were playing White Claw pong with a group of ten people in the kitchen on a Wednesday night. The walls were thin, and Akaashi needed to sleep.   
Though, he didn’t say anything about it that night. Maybe it’d sort of be a one-time thing? Maybe they’d get drunk in someone else’s kitchen the next time? Unfortunately, he quickly grew to regret the fact he hadn’t confronted them that night. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Akaashi should have nipped that sort of behavior in the bud before it could blossom into something worse- people loudly getting drunk almost every night in their kitchen.   
One night, he was in dire need of studying for his Art History test (Art History being a class he was required to take- not one he’d chosen). Akaashi’s roommates were being ungodly noisy as they played chugged cheap beer in the kitchen with an older girl who’d bought them all some alcohol.   
Akaashi sank his teeth into his lower lip before pulling his cellphone out of the sweatshirt pocket on his tummy. He popped the joint in his right thumb before shooting Bokuto a text:

Can i borrow your place to study tonight? I know u will be at practice, but I have to study and my suitemates are being sooo loud.

Bokuto’s reply was very quick (they usually were). 

OF COURSE!!!!!!!

ILL LEAVE IT UNLOCKED 4 U

LOCK THE DOOR BEHIND U THO

Akaashi frowned:

Thanks and WHY ARE YOU TYPING LIKE THAT?

Bokuto’s reply:

Idk 🤷

Akaashi smiled. Bokuto was… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe… erratic was the best way to describe it? Akaashi appreciated him, though. He was always there when Akaashi needed him.   
He packed his backpack with his Art History textbook, his notebook, and his set of rainbow gel pens that he used to take notes. He stuck his laptop into its zipper case and tucked the charger in along with it. He grimaced at the ceiling. He was grateful for Bokuto- and the quiet dorm room he was letting Akaashi use to study in (which, by proxy, made him grateful for Kuroo as well- the two of them shared a room). But, he didn’t really want to go, because it would mean he had to study. He’d feel guilty if Bokuto let Akaashi borrow his room to study just to scroll through TikTok for three hours.  
He grimaced and tugged his backpack over his shoulders. He was also dreading having to walk past his suitemates on the way out. He didn’t feel like talking to drunk people- in fact- he sort of hated talking to drunk people in general. It made him uncomfortable and set a strange taste in his mouth.   
But, alas, to be able to study in Bokuto’s warm, quiet room (that was heated, thank god- Akaashi’s dorm was way too cheap to fix the broken heating system), he’d have to face his suitemates on the way out the door.  
He gathered all of the niceness he could muster, so as to not yell at one of them on the way out the front door, and stepped into the common area, immediately bombarded with overly personal questions that he didn’t want to answer.  
“Oooh! Who are you going to see? Your boyfriend?” asked Akaashi’s first roommate, clutching a red solo cup, and waggling his eyebrows. He lounged on the couch, and Akaashi noticed that he was drunk enough to have lost one of his shoes.  
“Yeah, Keiji! Why’re you dressed so sexy like that?” asked his second suitemate, perched on the counter- which Akaashi less than appreciated. He was the one who cleaned that counter- it was certainly none of his three suitemates.  
“I heard you crying in your room a couple of days ago… what was that all ‘bout?” asked Suzuki, by far his least favorite suitemate. The girl who brought the alcohol was sitting between his legs on the floor. Suzuki usually acted at the ringmaster of the antics they got up to in the middle of the night.   
He bit his lower lip again. “I am not going to see my boyfriend, no. I don’t have one.”  
“That funny lookin’ tall guy? I thought I heard you havin’ sex with ‘im?”  
“No.” Akaashi bit back two comments. The first was about the fact that Bokuto was by no means ‘funny looking’. The second was that he had never told them it was okay to call him ‘Keiji’. They’d gotten it off the name stickers their RA had made for their door. He was able to overlook the sex comment- they made similar ones a lot.   
“M’kay, but why’re you dressed all sexy like that?”  
“I’m wearing sweatpants.”  
“Mmm… I guess you are. But why were you crying the other day?”  
“Please, mind your own business. I’m on my way somewhere. See you later.” Akaashi slipped out the front door, making sure to lock it behind him. He’d hated that exchange- just like he’d thought he was going to. They were pretty perceptive for a couple of underage alcoholics.   
The ‘crying’ they were referring to happened when a chord had just been struck in him when he heard his kitty meow in the background of a call with his mom. It made him miss his cat- cats couldn’t talk on the phone to make you miss them any less. He’d cried, but not for an overly long time.   
Though, he hadn’t understood what they were talking about when they kept saying he was ‘sexy’.  
And, Bokuto. His suitemates loved to tease him about Bokuto. That was nothing new, either. 

Akaashi stepped into Bokuto and Kuroo’s quiet dorm room, kicking his shoes off near the door, and launching his backpack onto the ground by Bokuto’s bed- which was made very nicely. He’d probably made it because he’d known Akaashi was coming. Akaashi knew for a fact that he didn’t make it otherwise. Or, at least, that was what Kuroo had told him. Akaashi believed it.   
Akaashi flopped face down on Bokuto’s bed for a moment. He was exhausted. It was midterms week, and he’d pretty much been studying nonstop. He was looking forward to the relief of finishing all the tests he was preparing for.   
Bokuto didn’t have any midterms. It just worked out that way, as each professor decided for themselves whether or not a midterm was worth their time for the specific class they taught. It made Akaashi jealous to no end. The stress of midterms had been prickling at the back of his mind for a month now.   
After a moment of basking in silence, Akaashi lugged his Art History textbook out of his bag. He couldn’t waste this precious time. He needed to study.  
He started by looking at New England Scenery by Frederic Edwin Church. Akaashi himself was not a huge fan of landscape painting, but he knew it was an important piece. Church was one of the first good landscape painters in North America (coming just after Thomas Cole- who actually had inspired the main peak in the background of Church’s New England Scenery). It was a means of attempting to stitch a broken country back together after the Civil War. It was meant to remind people of the glory of a more agricultural (or, emphasizing less industrial) lifestyle.   
It was difficult to remember everything he needed to know about the landscape paintings. His mind was pretty empty, especially as his eyes glossed over Thomas Moran’s Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and John Twatchtman’s Winter Harmony (of which, Akaashi was severely not a fan).   
Akaashi could find it within himself to appreciate the paintings with people as their subjects. He especially liked most of John Singer Seargent’s work- his favorite probably being Fumee d’Ambregris, though he wasn’t sure that he could interpret it much further than the artist’s bragging of how cultured he was.   
Once Akaashi had finally made his way into the 1920’s art (lots of rich people stuff- skyscrapers, and fancy entrance gates), his head was starting to pound. Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten his glasses, and staring into artworks with incredibly minute details was not doing him much good. He pinched the bridge of his nose before decisively closing his book. He’d studied enough. He’d just have to get through the 20 years or so of artwork he needed to finish up in the morning (he’d gotten through 60 or so already).   
He flopped on his back on Bokuto’s bed. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to talk to Bokuto. Akaashi would feel pretty… upset if he’d spent two and a half hours studying in Bokuto’s bedroom just to leave before Bokuto even got home from volleyball. But… Bokuto wasn’t coming back for a good while. His practices were very long.   
Akaashi closed his eyes. Unfortunately, he had other things to do. He needed to vacuum and do some laundry before bed. He’d just rest for a moment. Maybe his headache would go away. 

“Akaashi… Hey… are you awake?”  
What was that? Was it one of his suitemates at his bedroom door? It probably was, which meant Akaashi was free to ignore them.   
“Hey, sorry, buddy. You seem sleepy, but you gotta go home. You can’t sleep here.”  
“Why?” Akaashi opened his eyes. Bokuto leaned over him, a cool hand pressed over Akaashi’s cheek. His golden eyes reminded Akaashi of an owl. They glowed, and they radiated a beautiful warmth. “Oh. Bokuto. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”  
“Hah! It’s okay- it’s just- are you sleeping alright at your place? I know your suitemates can be douchebags.”  
“Yeah. It’s fine. They were loud last night… but I mean… it’s fine.”  
“That sucks, though.”  
“No, it’s fine. Thanks for letting me borrow your room.” Bokuto had an incredibly soft expression. Something was obviously on his mind- the inner corners of his eyebrows tugged upwards the slightest bit. His cheeks were flushed from practice, and he softly smiled.   
‘Anytime. I mean, if you wanna sleep here, I just gotta ask Kuroo. He’s taking a shower, but I-”  
“No, Bokuto, it’s fine. I get plenty of sleep at my place.”  
“Okay. Whatever. Abandon me.”  
“I’m not abandoning you!”  
Bokuto tugged Akaashi to his feet, “I’ll walk you home, you abandoner.”  
“No, you won’t. You need a shower. You’re kinda…” Akaashi pressed his nose to Bokuto’s shoulder. He didn’t really stink- he sort of smelled like sweat, which Akaashi didn’t actually mind on Bokuto, “Smelly.”  
“What the fuck, dawg?”  
“Eww… don’t call me ‘dawg’.”  
“Don’t call me ‘smelly’!”  
“I was joking, Bokuto.” Akaashi pressed his nose back into Bokuto’s shoulder, “You smell sweaty, but I kinda like it.”  
“Oooooh!? Is that so?” Akaashi could hear the grin in Bokuto’s voice.  
“How are you two dorks not dating?” Kuroo had popped his head out of the bathroom. “You’re sniffing him? And he smells like sweat? And you like it?!”  
“Are you naked?! Put on clothes!” Bokuto cried.   
“Nothing you haven’t seen before, big boy,” Kuroo winked.  
“STOP! Don’t you know Akaashi’s here?!”  
“Nothing he hasn’t seen either.”  
“KUROO!”  
Kuroo winked again before slithering back into the bathroom. “You know he’s provoking you on purpose…” said Akaashi.  
Bokuto heaved a sigh, “I talked about his dick once in front of Kenma. It was a joke, and he always spews shit like that.”  
“You’re surprised? And why were you guys looking at each other’s-”  
“We weren’t! They were just talking about sex appeal, and Kuroo asked Kenma if he thought he was sexy. Kenma said yeah, and I said, ‘Whoa there, you might wanna ratchet it back a couple of notches because your ‘kitten’s’ dick is only like a centimeter long.’”  
“My god, Bokuto.”  
“Whatever. Let’s go.”

After Bokuto dropped Akaashi off outside his dorm building, he begrudgingly made his way up the three flights of stairs it took to get to the floor he lived on. His backpack dug uncomfortably into his shoulders, and he was glad he forgot his glasses. They would have fogged up. He was really hoping his suitemates had either left or retreated to their rooms to nurse stomachaches manufactured by the amount of alcohol they’d consumed.   
There were only two suitemates (out of three) left in the living room area. One of them was pretty much out of commission, unconscious on one end of the sofa. The other (Suzuki) was sitting on the other end of the couch, the 22-year-old sorority girl who’d bought them the cheap beer straddling his lap and pressing bites to his throat. Akaashi almost gagged, “Don’t you have a room?” He asked as he walked by, freezing when he noticed something.  
The door to his room was open. He had definitely not left it that way- no. He’d made sure that he locked it tight because his suitemates were not to be trusted.   
“Hey,” said Suzuki from the sofa, “Sorry. We picked the lock because the- the- the alarm on yer iPad was goin’ off.” That guy. He was so drunk. The girl giggled and fell limp against his suitemate’s chest. Akaashi swallowed down a heavy mouthful of disgust.   
“Oh.” His iPad alarm probably had gone off. He’d turned it on two days ago to remind him to take his laundry out of the dryer. He’d just forgotten to turn it off. But, he didn’t really think that the fact that they’d basically broken into his room was justified. It would have turned off by itself in five minutes, and he’d set it to a gentle lofi radio station. “Don’t do that again.”  
His drunk roommate shrugged, “Don’t leave yer-” he belched, “La- ala- la’larm on, then.”  
“No,” said Akaashi, “Break into my room again, and I’ll call the police.” He stepped into his room and slammed the door behind him. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his stomach. He sank his teeth into his lower lip.   
How dare those douchebags come into his room? They already messed with Akaashi’s sleep schedule, and occasionally, made him feel barred from the kitchen when he knew someone was making out on the sofa. They didn’t need to touch his stuff. They didn’t need to be inside his room. The fact that they’d picked his lock made his chest hurt. The only reason he felt safe in his room was that it locked. Not that he thought they’d really do anything to him on purpose- but drunk people did stupid shit all the time.  
He wanted to call Bokuto, but he shoved that urge down. Bokuto would worry, and (even though Bokuto didn’t have to worry about midterms) he didn’t need anything else on his plate.

Akaashi awoke the next morning and was surprised to find he hadn’t slept too poorly. His suitemates were probably nursing hangovers, and Akaashi had the urge to go make a smoothie or something in the kitchen. He knew the sound of the blender would make their migraines worse.   
Unfortunately, though, Akaashi didn’t have the means to make a smoothie. He lacked time. He needed to finish studying those last 20 years of artworks before 10:30- when his Art History exam opened up online. After that midterm, he had an Astronomy exam coming up in two days (yet another requirement he was working on fulfilling for his university- it functioned as a lab science). He’d really have to buckle down on studying for that- he was still slightly struggling with how, exactly, a planet could appear to move in retrograde motion for any amount of time across the night sky.  
He stood up, stretching tall. His back delivered several satisfying cracks. He glanced down at his desk to the spot where he always put his glasses. Curiously, they weren’t there.  
He checked in the bag he’d taken to Bokuto’s- maybe he’d missed them the night before, and they were really there all along? Nope. They weren’t anywhere in his backpack.  
Akaashi checked his bathroom sink, just in case he’d taken them off to wash his face at some point.   
No. They weren’t there.   
A sinking feeling started up in Akaashi’s stomach as he ran a hand through his hair and ventured into the common area of the suite.   
His poor glasses. They were sitting up on the bar, snapped completely in half, and one of the lenses shattered. He sank his teeth into his lower lip.   
Immediately, he’d known what had gone on. His dumbass suitemates (who thought it was okay to break into his room), had taken his glasses from his desk in a drunken stupor (probably to try them on for less than one minute- to their slight defense) and broken them. They’d have no clue what Akaashi was talking about when confronted. They’d been very drunk.  
Regardless, Akaashi pounded on Suzuki’s door (Suzuki’s room was right next to his). He crossed his arms firmly over his chest and waited. His heart pounded inside him, and he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. He tried to keep his breathing under control.  
“Hhhey?” Suzuki opened the door. He was really not looking too good. There were thick, dark circles under his eyes, and a painful-looking bite in the side of his neck (from that stupid sorority girl who’d brought the booze- not that Akaashi had anything against Greek Life- he just hated this girl). Suzuki’s usually fairly tanned complexion was gone, and his pallid skin was tinged the slightest bit green.  
“Who broke my glasses?”  
“Huh?”  
“One of you broke my glasses.”  
“R… really?”  
“Yes. When you broke into my room.”  
“I… broke into your room?”  
Akaashi pressed a hand over his own forehead and squeezed his eyes closed. “Yes. You did.”  
“Sorry, man. I dunno.”  
Akaashi rolled his eyes, “You guys need to figure it out and pay me for them. Glasses aren’t cheap.” He stormed off, back into his room. He could still feel his heart pounding in his head, especially when he looked down at the mess of glass and plastic frames he cupped in his hands.  
Luckily, he could barely survive without his glasses (meaning he could survive, but not well). He got migraines looking at the blocks of text and the tiny details of paintings in his Art History textbook. He had to lean in pretty close to what he was looking at (which looked odd), but at least his exam was online. He could take it from his dorm room, and it would be quiet with the shape his suitemates were in.  
Akaashi roughly sighed. He wasn’t hungry enough to eat breakfast.

The snap of his laptop as it closed after his exam was satisfying. He’d managed to get through his Art History exam without his glasses, luckily. But, it had been difficult. He remembered the questions on Winslow Homer’s Prisoners from the Front.  
“Please explain in 1 sentence the reason that each soldier’s heads lie on the same plane in this painting.”  
It had severely stumped him, but he was pretty sure he’d thought of the right answer (eventually):  
“The reason for the soldier’s heads lying on the same plane is to show mutual respect for each other, so the confederate leader is forced to show respect with the loss of his side of the war.”  
He wasn’t too sure how he did, though. He still felt upset about his glasses, and the invasion of privacy when his suitemates had come into his room the night before. Not to mention that Bokuto had been texting him memes the entire time- not that Akaashi had been looking at them during his test. No, he’d have to do that now.  
Akaashi scrolled through the memes that Bokuto had sent. They didn’t quite strike his sense of humor, but he appreciated them because Bokuto thought they were funny.  
It was close to noon, now, and Akaashi guessed that he’d normally be hungry by now (especially with the fact that he hadn’t eaten breakfast), but he wasn’t. In fact, he was feeling the slightest bit nauseous.   
He took a sip of water from the off-brand hydro flask that Bokuto had covered in stickers for him. It made Akaashi happy to look at, but drinking water didn’t help settle his stomach or make it much worse. He swallowed thickly and sat back in his chair. It’d probably go away in a bit. Maybe it was the stress of exams getting to him?

Hey kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashi

U wanna come study here with me?

I mean i dont gotta study

But u do rite? 

You can study here if uuuuuuu want!!!!!

Akaashi smiled at Bokuto’s texts. It was now around 4, and he hadn’t really eaten all day. He was still feeling a little sick. He’d tried to force himself to eat a little something at lunch, but he couldn’t quite do it.   
But, he had no other symptoms, and his nausea hadn’t really gotten worse, so he didn’t think he was sick. At least, he wasn’t sick with something he could pass to Bokuto and Kuroo. It was probably anxiety.   
And, his suitemates were getting loud and giggly in their rooms, which would probably progress into a small party in a couple of hours. It might be nice to escape while he could without having a painfully weird conversation on his way out.

Thank u bokuto, that sounds great.

Bokuto let Akaashi in, and Akaashi kicked off his pale blue Crocs next to Kuroo’s black Doc Martens and Kenma’s red Converse near the doorway. “Hello, Kenma,” Akaashi called. Kenma was sitting on Kuroo’s bed, messing with his Switch while Kuroo furiously studied at his own desk.   
“Hey, Keiji.”  
Akaashi sat on Bokuto’s bed, and Bokuto plopped down next to him. “What’re you even studying for?” Bokuto asked.  
“Astronomy.”  
“Ooh. That sounds interesting.”  
“... It’s not,” Akaashi revealed the spectrums of light he’d been looking at, trying to find the difference between a blueshift and redshift spectrum.   
“Whoa. That looks… really boring.”  
“I told you.”  
“You don’t talk about planets and stuff?”  
“Well, we did a little bit ago.”  
“Do you know anything cool?”  
“Umm…” Akaashi thought, “Uranus probably got hit by an asteroid a long time ago and now it’s sideways.”  
“How can a ball be sideways?”  
“Because of the way it rotates. It rotates like… this.” Akaashi modeled the rotation with his finger.   
“Oooh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But that’s a boring fact.”  
“Well, don’t ask then.”  
“Don’t you know anything about Jupiter? It’s the best planet. Not boring Uranus.”  
Akaashi cocked an eyebrow. “You sort of remind me of Jupiter.”  
“What? How?”  
“You’re big, and… super neurotic.”  
“How is that like Jupiter?”  
“It had a lot of storms. They remind me of the way you act.”  
“Why’re you so mean?!”  
“I’m not mean. It’s a compliment.”  
“Oh, huh, I guess it is.” Bokuto left Akaashi alone, curling up in a little ball on the other end of the bed to take a nap. Akaashi started studying.

Bokuto awoke to a funny noise. He sat up and blinked, but didn’t hear it again. Akaashi was still studying. “What was that?” Bokuto asked.   
“What was what?” Kuroo asked from the other side of the room, chewing his pencil to pieces as he looked over his model he’d drawn in his notes on the function of capillaries in the human body.  
Akaashi’s stomach let out a long rumble, and he seemed to curl in on himself before sheepishly looking over at Bokuto. “Are you hungry?” Bokuto asked.  
“Don’t comment on it!”  
“I didn’t comment on anything! But, we should get food. It’s dinner time.”  
Akaashi checked his cellphone screen, tapping the glass there twice. “Oh. It’s six already? I didn’t eat today.”  
“What?” There was a pang of worry in Bokuto’s chest. “Why?”  
“I felt a little sick earlier. But, it’s gone now.”  
Bokuto smiled at him, “Yeah, I heard your stomach growl.”  
“I said not to comment on it!”  
Bokuto flung himself off of his bed, and stood up, throwing his arms over his head to stretch. “You coming, Kuroo? Kenma?”  
“No. Gotta finish up,” said Kuroo, “Kenma can go.”  
Kenma whined at Kuroo for studying so much but followed Bokuto and Akaashi out the door. Bokuto didn’t let Akaashi get away with wearing Crocs without poking fun, of course. Unfortunately for him, it sparked a mini-argument about Crocs (which he lost) on the way to the Union. Kenma had backed Akaashi up, because he also (sadly, in Bokuto’s opinion) wore Crocs sometimes.   
“Let’s see what they’re serving at the cafeteria today,” said Kenma, “I need cheap.”  
They walked to the digital menu outside the cafeteria, and Bokuto noticed something strange when Akaashi leaned in to read it, three inches from the screen it was displayed on.   
“Where's your glasses?” Bokuto asked.  
“Oh, they’re broken.”  
“What? How?”  
Akaashi nervously shifted his weight. “Uhh, I don’t know. I mean… I do know. But it doesn’t matter. Kenma, did you want to eat here? I’ll pay for you if you wanna eat somewhere else that’s more expensive?” Kenma gave Akaashi a weird look.  
“Were you doing something dumb?” Kenma asked, “When they broke?”  
“N- no,” said Akaashi, rubbing the back of his head, “I just… my suitemates broke them.” Akaashi turned to Bokuto, “But don’t worry about it, Bokuto.”  
Bokuto frowned, “But… you need your glasses.”  
“I can see without them.”  
“Akaashi! That’s dumb.”  
Akaashi glared at him.

On the way back to Bokuto and Kuroo’s room, Bokuto and Kenma listened to Akaashi talk about the three missions to Mars since the beginning of the year. It was sort of endearing. And, as much as Akaashi loved to hate Astronomy, Bokuto could tell his interest in it had grown exponentially since the year started.  
Bokuto and Akaashi sat on the floor in front of Bokuto’s bed (as per Akaashi’s demand- who always told Bokuto to not eat on his bed, something that Bokuto only complied with when Akaashi was around). Bokuto watched Akaashi take a bite of salad.   
He had sort of tried to convince Akaashi to eat something heavier with more protein since he had evidently not eaten for the entire day. But, it hadn’t worked.  
And, unfortunately, Akaashi had to go after dinner. It was getting close to 7:30 and Akaashi claimed that he needed to clean his kitchen and go to bed by 10 so he could get up early and study. Bokuto didn’t know how Akaashi was still alive. He’d die if he studied that much.

The next day, Bokuto wasn’t able to see Akaashi. He had another late-night, very long practice to go to with Kuroo, and although Akaashi had borrowed his room as a silent sanctuary, he’d left before Bokuto got home. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz!  
Bokuto blinked awake and glanced at his alarm clock. It was 2 am, and his cell phone was ringing. There was a strange feeling pressing inside his chest. As he groped in the darkness to pick up his phone. He answered without being able to see who the caller was. The screen was way too bright.  
“Hello?”  
“Bokuto?” came Akaashi’s voice, uncharacteristically nervous and shaky. Bokuto sat bolt upright in his bed, fear suddenly twisting in his chest.  
“Akaashi? What’s wrong?”  
“I’m sick- I-” There was a pause, seemingly for Akaashi to let out a sob. Adrenaline pushed through Bokuto’s veins, and he could almost feel his bones vibrate.   
“Hey, breathe. What’s wrong, Akaashi?”  
“I keep throwing up.” Something about his tone broke Bokuto’s heart, “A- and my head.”  
“Okay. Okay. I’ll come over, okay? I’ll bring Kuroo to check you out.”  
“C- can you h- hurry?”  
“Of course, Akaashi. We’ll even run.” Kuroo had already woken up and wandered over to Bokuto’s bed. “See you in a bit.”  
“O- okay.”  
“What’s going on?” Kuroo asked as Bokuto hung up.  
“I guess Akaashi’s pretty sick,” said Bokuto nervously, “I said we’ll go over.” He knew that there was probably not much that Kuroo could do as a nursing major. But, something in Bokuto didn’t want to face a sickly Akaashi on his own. He wasn’t near as caring as Akaashi, or even Kuroo could be.  
“Oh- okay.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes.”  
“You don’t have to come.”  
“It’s fine, dumbass. Put your shoes on.”

Akaashi sat, propped up against the toilet, sinking his nails into the flesh of his stomach, willing it to stop hurting. The spaces behind his eyes were positively pounding. He almost couldn’t see.  
He heard a knock at the door and begrudgingly got to his feet. He felt pretty damn pathetic for calling Bokuto in the middle of the night. But, he really didn’t want to be alone.  
Akaashi opened the door, and his vision distorted. He could feel himself swaying, and two strong hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to sit down on the floor. His skin felt cold, but his stomach felt uncomfortably hot. “Hey,” said Bokuto, pressing a hand to Akaashi’s forehead, “You don’t have a fever.”  
“H- huh?”  
“Hey, let’s get you to your bed,” came Kuroo’s voice, also comforting and soft, but Akaashi wanted Bokuto, who, with a fair amount of difficulty, tugged Akaashi into his arms, and lifted him off the floor. He could feel the cool chill of the night air on Bokuto’s bare arms. “Hey,” came Kuroo’s voice, suddenly having lost its softness, “Hey, Bokuto, stop. We need to get out of here.”  
“What?”  
“Don’t you smell that?” Akaashi’s vision was still swimming and he pressed his face into Bokuto’s chest.   
“Oh,” said Bokuto, “It that…” The stench of burning plastic and cleaning materials. He didn’t know what it was.  
“Cocaine.”  
Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s heart pounding against his face. He could feel Bokuto’s arms shaking under his weight. “Jesus.”  
“Yeah,” said Kuroo. “We should get out of here.”

Akaashi suddenly became aware of his surroundings. His back was pressed up against a rough brick wall. He could hear cars rushing by, and see their headlights shining through his eyelids. He opened his eyes. The air was brisk, and the stars glittered above him.  
Kuroo was kneeling in front of him, “Hey, you should drink some water,” He pressed a cool, plastic bottle of water into Akaashi’s hands, “You’ll feel better. But, I bet you feel better now already, huh?”  
“Y- yeah.” He did. His headache and upset stomach were still very present, but also very much lessened. He didn’t feel like he’d need to vomit anytime soon.  
“Do you… get what’s going on? Your suitemates were smoking cocaine. I think, since the vents in their rooms were connected to yours, you were breathing in their secondhand smoke.”  
“Eww…”  
“Yeah.”   
“Where’s Bokuto?”  
“He’s talking to your suitemates. They broke your glasses, huh?”  
“How’d you know?”  
“I’m just smart like that. And, Bokuto told me they were broken.”  
“Oh.”  
“Akaashi!” Bokuto jogged over, and knelt down next to Akaashi on the rough pavement, pressing a warm hand to the side of his face. “You feeling any better?”  
“Yes, Bokuto. Thanks.”  
“No problem. I got your RA up. She called the cops on your suitemates, but she said we can take you back to our place until you feel better.”  
“Mmm… Kay.” Akaashi felt groggy and sick. He needed to thank them- Bokuto and Kuroo said the rational part of his mind. But, he also didn’t have the energy to thank them quite yet.   
Kuroo helped Akaashi to his feet. Akaashi had thought he felt better than he really did- he immediately started to sway. Bokuto wrapped a strong, firm arm around his waist. Suddenly, Akaashi felt grounded.

Akaashi awoke in Bokuto’s bed. Bokuto was pretty much on top of him (pretty heavy, but Akaashi didn’t mind), face pressed down into Akaashi’s chest, left hand under Akaashi’s back, and right hand resting over his stomach. Akaashi felt better. He rested a hand on the back of Bokuto’s head. Bokuto glanced up at him, and groggily said, “If I got up at 2 to save you… does that mean we can date?”  
Akaashi smiled at him. Bokuto managed to make him feel happy, even though he’d thrown up six times in the last twelve hours and had a big astronomy test not too long later. “Yes, Bokuto. We can date.”  
Akaashi slowly began to recall the events of the previous night, guilt building up in his chest. He swallowed down a thick mouthful of embarrassment, “Bokuto… sorry for calling you like that.”  
“What do you mean 'like that’?”  
“Crying and freaking out.”  
Bokuto looked back up at Akaashi, “Why? You’re allowed to call me.” Akaashi smiled and pressed a kiss to Bokuto’s forehead.


End file.
